Our Truth
by Vanillasiren
Summary: Summary: Someday, Regina might be able to tell Snow what she's realized. Until then, she can only imagine how the conversation might go.
1. Chapter 1

Our Truth

Summary: Someday, Regina might be able to tell Snow what she's realized. Until then, she can only imagine how the conversation might go.

She's been turning it over in her mind. She doesn't want to face it – as she doesn't want to face so many things – but she supposes near death has a way of providing clarity, of bringing realizations, of forcing buried truths to the surface.

And it _is_ the truth. She knows that now. It is.

Bu she has no idea how Snow would take it.

She can imagine telling her, can see her face, that infuriatingly earnest face, the look of surprise, after she says the words, but she doesn't know what comes next. She doesn't know if Snow smiles, or cries, or scoffs, or just shakes her head and walks away …

She can clearly picture the beginning of the conversation, however.

Usually, in her mind, it takes place on the ship. She's standing on deck, gazing out into the endless blue intently, as though she can make Henry materialize through sheer force of will, when Snow approaches her.

Regina glances over at here, but doesn't say anything. She doesn't sneer or make a snarky remark. She just looks at her, and then back out at the ocean.

Snow takes her silence as permission to stay.

"We'll find him," Snow says, with quiet conviction. "Family always finds each other."

"And is that really what_ I_ am to you, Snow? Family?" She modulates her tone carefully, trying to betray no emotion, but she's not entirely sure she succeeds.

"Yes," Snow says, without hesitation.

Regina laughs, because yes, nearly dying _does_ bring a little self-awareness, and now she understands enough to know that in context, in their history, Snow's statement is absolutely_ insane_.

"You know child, maybe there is such a thing as being _too_ good."

"You haven't called me 'child' since I was little," Snow says softly, so softly. Regina waits a beat, and then, as expected:

"And there's _not_ such a thing as being too good."

That's when Regina begins. "Do you know why it was so easy for me to love Henry? Even with the gaping hole that casting the Dark Curse left in my heart?"

"I … well, Henry's an amazing young man, I mean, who wouldn't love –"

"For a long time, I didn't realize it … or at least I didn't want to admit it," Regina continues, as though Snow hadn't spoken. "But when I was strapped to that table, when I nearly died, I … I realized." She swallows, takes a deep breath.

"It was because Henry reminds me of you."

She doesn't look at Snow as she speaks. "Regina … I … but…"

"I know, you're thinking it would inspire the opposite reaction." Regina almost laughs again. "I mean, he even _looks_ like you, but it's much more than that. The way he acts, the way he feels, the way he keeps …" she has to take moment, "The way he keeps believing in me against all reason and all evidence to the contrary…"

"Regina …"

"No please, I need to finish this. Henry … Henry was … _is_ … the part of you I could let myself love. The part of you that _isn't_ a living reminder of what happened to Daniel, the part of you I remember from when … when I save you from your runaway horse and you, you looked at me like … like I was a _hero_. No one had ever looked at me like that before, do you understand? And no one has since … except for him."

There's a long beat of silence before Regina can bring herself to face Snow. She sees her wide, earnest eyes, watches as her lips part, but no words form. Not yet.

"How do you feel about that?" Regina asks.

Snow takes a deep breath …

And then the scene in her minds ends. She cannot fathom what Snow's response would be.

But she will find out. Not today, and not tomorrow, or the next day, or the next.

Probably not for a very long time.

But someday, when she is ready, she will speak the words, the _truth_, her truth, their truth. And she will ask the question, and she will finally know what Snow's answer will be.


	2. Chapter 2

Our Truth Part II

Summary: She thought she wouldn't be able to do this for a very long time. Maybe never. She was wrong. Regina speaks and the words, and Snow responds.

Regina cannot sleep. Well actually, she can …

It just that she doesn't particularly want to. Because when she sleeps, she dreams.

She dreams of her father, dying by her hand. "I'm sorry."

She dreams of her mother dying in her arms. "You would have been enough."

She dreams of Daniel, dying by the hand of the woman who has terrified her, tortured her, and whose love and approval she has craved for as long as she can remember. "Love is weakness, Regina."

She dreams of Snow, all wide-eyed earnestness, all trembling lips and quivering chin. "I'm sorry. I just didn't want you to lose your mother. Like I lost mine."

_You promised. You promised to keep my secret, but you lied …_

Tossing and turning, fighting sleep, Regina tries to summon it, the old, satisfying anger, the rage that kept her warm, or at least kept her pulse going, on the nights when she and Leopold would lie together the only way they knew how … side by side, and still, and cold.

Eventually, they slept in separate bedrooms, though it made little difference. Even when they shared a bed, she was alone.

She was alone then, and she is alone now.

Except …

It's just as she imagined it. She's looking out into the endless blue, thinking of Henry, wishing she could make him materialize by sheer force of will, when Snow approaches her. A thousand thoughts run through her mind, and she tries to find the strength to hate her, how she _needs_ to hate her, it's all she had to keep her strong, to keep her _alive_, but it's exhausting, so exhausting, and oh, how she's terrified of what's underneath, but …

The words come out of her in a burst, in a messy, undignified jumble. She isn't nearly as eloquent as she imagined herself being, but somehow, she manages to make her point, speak the truth.

That Henry is the part of Snow she could let herself love.

"How do you feel about that?" Regina asks her.

"I …" Those impossibly wide eyes. "Regina, I … don't know what to say."

It almost makes her laugh. After all this time, after turning it over and over in her mind, _of course_ Snow's response would turn out to be entirely anti-climactic. Because Snow will never, ever do what Regina wants, whether it's suffering or dying or simply keeping her mouth shut.

Regina avoids her painfully earnest gaze. "You don't have to say anything. I just … wanted you to know."

But when she turns to leave, Snow grips her arm.

"Look at me," she whispers.

"No …"

"Regina, please, look at me."

Her rage has left her, just when she needs it most. She will summon it back, or die trying. Regina begins to shake.

"No! Let me go!"

"Regina …"

"Let go or I will make you let go!"

"You were to be _mother_!" Snow cries out, and Regina looks at her then, can't seem to stop herself. For a moment, Snow is ten years old again, ten years old and crying over all the things she can't change.

"I wanted … I wanted … I was _happy_ when you told me Daniel had run away, b-because you said we were going to be a family! You _said_ … I thought … I didn't know … I couldn't understand … your mother … she told me she just wanted to be close to you, and I …"

"Oh Snow, you promised, you _promised_ …"

"Why didn't you tell me?" Snow whispers. "Why didn't you tell me what your mother was? If I had known, I never would have trusted…"

Regina grips Snow's arm, tight enough to bruise. "Tell you? _Tell you? _You were a _child_! How was I supposed to explain to you that I lived every day of my life in _fear_? How was I going to make you understand what it was like, to have magic make you suffer, make you _bleed_? And be told by your own father that it was only happening because your mother wanted the best for you?"

"Your … your mother used magic to …?"

Regina shakes her. "_Of course_ she did!"

"But … but _why_, Regina, then why would you side with her?"

"Because she was my mother!" Regina screams. "I had to, I had to stop disappointing her, I had to try harder, I had to be better, I had to be _good enough_ …"

"Oh Regina, I know you must've –"

"No you don't! You don't know what it's like, because everything was handed to you! You drew love in with every breath, your mother's love, your father's love, but I … I had to try and suck in the air in between my screams … but I couldn't shake the taste of blood in my mouth … until Daniel. He loved me, he loved me …."

Regina bows her head and begins to sob. After all this time, it still hurts. It still hurts so much.

"_I _would have loved you," Snow whispers.

Regina looks up at her through a haze of tears. "What?"

"I would have loved you. I would have helped you. You _were_ my hero, and I would have done anything for you … if you'd only let me."

Regina has the sense that she is standing on a ledge, a precipice … and that's when her survival instincts kick in, and she begins to back away.

She wipes away her tears and gives Snow a bitter smile. "Well," she says, trying to keep her voice steady, trying to inject as much coldness into it as she can. "It's too late now, isn't it?"

She turns and walks away.

"I don't believe that."

For a moment, she thinks she imagines Snow's voice. But then she says it again, louder. "I don't believe that."

Regina turns, and gives Snow her best Evil Queen sneer. "Oh don't you, you foolish girl?"

Snow meets her gaze evenly. "I don't. It's not too late. It's never too late."

Regina feels her heart beat faster. She cannot bear this. She can't. She needs her rage, where is her rage, why can't she find it? Snow tricked her into killing her own mother, she hates her, she _hates_ …

Regina closes her eyes. "Damn you Snow, I would have loved you too."

Then she turns and flees below deck.

Snow doesn't follow her.

But later, in the sleepless night, Regina hears a faint tapping on her cabin door. It's soft at first, hesitant, but then louder and more insistent.

"Regina?"

"Go away!" She says, sharper than she means to. And then, more softly, "I'm tired. Please, I'm just so … tired."

She hears Snow sigh, pictures her as she leans against the door. "We're going to find him, you know. Henry."

Regina stands up. She puts her hand to the door. "I know."

"Family always finds their way back to each other."

Regina thinks of her mother, of her father, of all the beautiful children she and Daniel never made.

"Not always, Snow."

"You'll see."

Regina leans against the door, closes her eyes. "You know, I really hate that you're still so damn optimistic."

"Regina …"

"Go to sleep, child."

"Yes, mother."

Regina starts, and her eyes fly open.

When she opens the door, Snow is gone.

Regina gasps, breathes in crisp, clear lungfuls of air.

This time, there are no screams. And there is no taste of blood in her mouth.


End file.
